Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
From what I heard, Alek already stole the rights, but a small part inside of me wonders how accurate the rumors are. If Polina’s first foster care father was taken care of, why does she still cower when the quickest adjustment of our position loses my eyes for only a second?
“Stay with me, Yev.” The groggy deliverance of my name assures me my quick wander down memory lane hasn’t dampened Polina’s eagerness in the slightest.
She’s still desperate to be fucked, and even after being granted the privilege at least thirty times over the past couple of weeks, I’m just as desperate to fuck her—after I’ve made her come again.
With a groan, she kicks out when I withdraw, bury my head back between her legs, then eat her as if I didn’t leak a gallon of pre-cum inside her. “Yev… oh god… It’s too much.”
Within a handful of licks, her protests switch to pleas. “Don’t stop. Please. Do that. More.” Her words turn labored as her breaths are limited. “I need to come. Please make me come.”
“Say it again,” I demand, “but tilt your hips. Bring your pussy to me. Let my tongue in deep.”
As she complies, I hit her clit with back-to-back hits while stuffing two fingers inside her. The walls of her vagina tremor around my fingers when I drag my tongue up her slit and around her throbbing clit before sucking it into my mouth.
Her juices drip off my palm in minutes, but no number of thigh crunches will remove me from between her legs.
“I’m not done yet. I need more.”
As Polina’s head thrashes side to side, she murmurs out a faint, “Can’t. Oh god, I can’t.”
She mumbles something about dying if she’s forced to come again, but I pay her ramblings no attention. I’m far from a dom. I don’t practice or preach the BDSM lifestyle several members of the Bobrov crew regularly embrace, but if I had to be given a title, it would be a pleasure dom.
I love getting women off and forcing them over an axis of pleasure they never thought possible. Their pleasure gets me off even more than having their lips wrapped around my cock and their juices dribbling over my balls, and hearing Polina murmur my name on repeat is the greatest glory of them all.
This is the woman I masturbated to for years, the one I pictured while sowing my oats with girls nowhere near her standards. I couldn’t ask for more than this.
“One more. Come on. I know you have it in you.”
My lips raise against the drenched lines of her pussy when she replies, “If I orgasm one more time, I won’t be able to move.”
“Perhaps that’s the point?”
She heard what I said but acts ignorant. “It’s not possible. I can’t come again. I’m done.”
“Bullshit.”
Forever determined to prove people wrong, I push and push and push until she is screaming my name into the cool night air and is too fucking spent to go anywhere.
She’s so floppy and limp, when I return from the bathroom with a washcloth to clean her up, she’s still in my bed even with me removing the belt holding her hostage an hour ago.
She’d usually be halfway to the door by now.
“You all right?”
Her moan vibrates through her naked body when she answers me nonverbally. I probably pushed things a little too far, but I wasn’t being a chump earlier when I said I want to tell Alek I want more from his sister than sex.
Feelings have been there for years, but they’ve crept under my skin now.
They’re like a tattoo.
They’ll never leave me.
Once I have Polina cleaned up, I nudge my head to the far side of the bed. “Scoot over. I don’t want to wake you when I crawl out of bed in a couple of hours to make you breakfast.”
“You’re going to make me breakfast?” Don’t mistake the clearness of her reply. It is still as husky as fuck and has my cock priming for round two.
“Uh-huh. I’ll make you breakfast… then eat mine off you.”
The plumpness of my pillow does little to hide her smile. It beams as bright as the moon creeping through the drapes, its size doubling when I pull her into my arms a second after slotting my ass onto the portion of mattress she was splayed over before I suggested she scoot.
“You better watch out, kid.” This time around, I’m the one groaning about hideous nicknames. “Only men in love sleep on the wet patch.”
Her giggles only last as long as it takes for her to realize I’m not firing off an objection.
As her pretty blue eyes bounce between my dark, moody pair, she murmurs, “Yev… I thought we agreed this was just casual?”
I lick my dry lips before replying, “We did… then you went and sucked the marrow straight out of my bones, so if this is anyone’s fault, it’s yours.” I wave my hand between us during the “this” part of my statement.